


We Carry On

by harold



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harold/pseuds/harold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry and Niall go to Ed’s concert and they can’t help but be all over each other, because that’s just how they are. Except this time, it’s different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> Ed Sheeran is a narry shipper, sorry im not sorry.
> 
> (Also, this was originally posted to my writing blog on tumblr.)

It’s hot. Like, really hot. It’s adrenaline, maybe excitement or something, that have the pair sweating and giggling and squirming.

Niall and Harry have floor seats in a packed concert. It’s not as if Ed isn’t one of their best friends and that they haven’t done this before, because they have. Regardless of the setting, something is definitely up. Different, one would say. Out of the ordinary. 

They both feel it; this weirdness. They’re quite aware of the high their both on, floating and drifting above the sobbing girls and flashing cameras and one heart-breaking ginger.

They don’t know what the hell this is. Until they do. Or at least, Harry has an idea what it is to him; but of course, he’s known for what’s been months now. 

Harry knows exactly why when Niall’s shoulder brushes his arm, he’s got a blush on his face, even though it’s probably the most casual he’s ever touched Niall, or anyone in their band for that matter.  
   
It’s pathetic, he thinks, how bad this  _thing_  is getting. Whatever it is, he’s never felt like this before. Not with Caroline or even Fliss, has he woken up and went to bed and spent every little moment in between feeling it. It’s there with him almost all day, and sometimes he’s worried he’ll be sick if he doesn’t get a break. He’s too afraid to put a label on it, but now he knows whatever the hell he decides to call it is the least of his worries.

That’s why when Niall lays his head on Harry’s shoulder, perfectly fitting it as if was meant to be there, Harry figures enough is enough. He’s either got to do something about this, and figure out if the blond is on the same page as he is, or move on. He knows it’s going to be a lot easier said than done, so why not start now, right?

He can flirt somewhat well, he reckons. He’s not nearly as good as everyone’s made him up to be, though, and Niall’s not just another bloke or bird that’s caught his attention. 

Niall’s  _stolen_  it; plucked it from Harry and hasn’t told him where he’s keeping it. But how could he? You can’t tell someone where to find something when you don’t even know you have it?

Niall’s special somehow, and Harry isn’t about to pull a couple cheap lines on him. 

Harry looks down at Niall, finding that staring straight back are a pair of black pupils with blue halos. Harry prays to god he gets this right.

Niall breaks contact with Harry, turning his head back to the side and resting it on Harry’s shoulder once again as Ed transitions to the next song: the familiar intro of Kiss Me reaching every corner of the stadium. 

Harry is torn. Regularly, he would freak out. A slow, romantic song and a compromising position. But tonight is different. 

He pulls his right arm from where it’s squished between them and slips it around his smaller friend, skimming the boy’s lower back with his fingertips as he wraps his arm around and settles on his waist.

This, once again, is nothing new for them, but the  _something_  is making it feel as if it is and now Harry can only hope that the way Niall presses into him even closer than usual means he feels the difference too. 

Harry thinks he sees Ed smile a bit wider when he “catches” them, probably the only two people of six thousand (except for Ed himself and a bodyguard or two), who isn’t waving a cell phone or a lighter high above their head. 

But then the concert is done and they’ve got their backstage passes so that’s where they’re going, backstage.

Harry feels cold when Niall pulls away so that they can make their way toward the door to backstage. He actually shivers from the loss, although he’s not completely sure if the cold is really why he’s got goosebumps now. 

He follows the blond head through the crowd of people, sticking close when Ed’s fans start to recognize them. At some point Niall takes Harry’s hand and holds it behind himself as he pulls the shocked boy through, going faster now, and Harry nearly trips over himself, while simultaneously forgetting how lungs are supposed to work. Needless to say, Harry’s a bit of a wreck when they’ve finally got a security guard helping them make their way through the door to backstage, especially since Niall hasn’t decided to let go yet. 

“I wish we could’ve stopped and said hi, don’t you?”  
“What? Oh, uh, yeah, I really do.”  
“But that would’ve been a mess for Ed’s guys.”  
“Yeah. Hope they’re doing alright out there.”

Harry would like to say he’s forgotten that Niall’s still clutching his hand as they stroll down the the dim hallway towards where Ed is supposed to be, but he can’t, truthfully. Niall is like a never-ending presence to him, and every twitch and curl of his guitar-callused fingers makes Harry burn and tingle. When Niall’s surprisingly long digits fit tightly into the spaces between Harry’s, the taller boy feels his arms combust into tiny infernos. 

Ed’s shit-eating grin when he opens the door of his wardrobe and finds them, although they’re no longer holding hands, makes Harry’s cheeks burn a bit as well.

“Ah, the Mister and Missus. Lovely to see you on this evening.” Ed says with a bow of his flaming head.

“Shut up, Edward,” says Niall. Harry doesn’t see that he’s smiling anyway.

“So what’d you guys think?” Ed asks, honestly, when they’re in the green room, eating food that probably isnt their’s to eat. Harry and Niall both roll their eyes. 

“Do you know how teachers would always say there’s  no such thing as a stupid question?” asks Harry.

“Yeah?” Ed replies, smiling, because he knows where this is going and he’s heard it before but this is why he loves them.

“They’d never had a conversation with you before.”

“You were amazing, Ed, you always are.” finishes Niall.

“Thanks, lads.”

“No problem.” they chorus, sitting down on a big, squishy couch. It’s lacking support in the middle, and the two sink until they’re practically leaning on the other, being pushed in opposite directions by the sofa.

If the temperature in the room goes up a couple degrees, Harry’s the only one who feels it. His left arm is awkward and useless, so he does the logical thing and slings it over Niall’s shoulder. 

Harry listens to Ed’s story about the little girl he met yesterday, when he realizes what he’s done. It may seem as if being hyperaware of touch while at the same time feeling as if he’s done it a million times would conflict, but they don’t, and it’s fantastic. Especially when every once in a while they lose balance and he becomes a bit more observant, if only for a second, and realizes that Niall has, once again, tangled his fingers with Harry’s.

“I’ve got to visit the lavatory.” says Ed, all of sudden. Niall laughs at his weird choice of words, but Harry freezes. These are the exact words Ed uses when he’s feeling like a third wheel, or is trying to be wingman, regardless of whether the help is actually wanted or needed. Harry knows because he’s been the receiving end on multiple occasions. He’s never heard Ed say the exact phrase in any other situation.

 When Ed begins to walk out, but catches Harry’s eye first, and discreetly holds out two fingers, then five, Harry groans inwardly. He knows this is certainly not a coincidence when Ed winks with a stupid grin on his face.

Seven minutes. 

 _To do what, exactly? And am I really that obvious? Bastard,_  Harry thinks. He remembers, however, that Ed isn’t actually a bastard, and is really quite observant, and that he’s only done this a handful of times because he thinks he sees something between the two people, and not from just one. 

Harry blushes a bit at the thought that Ed might’ve seen something from Niall too. Why can’t Harry? He knows that although it’s great of Ed to take an extremly long bathroom trip in the name of love, it’s all in vain. There is nothing between them. 

Harru deflates a little before he realizes how long they’ve been sitting in silence, tucked into each other. 

“So,” Harry starts, turning his head towards Niall. 

He’s looking right back at him, not unlike how Harry’d caught him during the concert, except he hasn’t looked down yet, and Niall’s face is much nearer now.

Niall is so close, all Harry sees is the black pit in the center of blue eyes. He risks a glance at the rest of his face, his mouth in particular, to find that it’s very, very close.

His pink, soft-looking lips stand out against his pale skin and Harry can feel the hot, damp air leaving them, because it’s hitting his own from a centimeter or two away. 

His eyes are back-up with Niall’s wondering why he hasn’t turned his face yet. Something is keeping Harry glued there, relishing this almost-kiss/staring-contest thing, and he figures it’s the same something that is willing him to lean forward that last bit. Harry knows why his own face remains, so why does Niall’s?

Hary shifts a bit in his seat as he opens his mouth to say something, to give Niall his chance to back away, and this proves to do the very opposite of what he wishes. The faulty couch with its failing springs and squishy cushions cause Harry to lean in and brush his lips against Niall’s. It’s an accident, really, it is, and they both pull away, albeit not very far, looking at each other and thinking.

Niall leans forward and stops right before they can touch.

“We’re going to do that again, alright?” he whispers, less of a question and more of a statement. Harry nods, still very confused as to how he got here. 

The kiss is short and sweet and all of those little clichés that Harry never understood until now. So he kisses Niall back, and now his mind is starting to get its shit together and he’s able to think about it; enjoy it; memorize it. Niall’s lips are this weirdly intoxicating combination of soft and chapped and Harry can feel himself melting like an ice cream that’s been left out of the freezer for too long.

When they hear Ed singing badly and loudly somewhere in the hallway, they pull away slowly, still a little lost in each other when Ed stomps to the door and slams it open. Harry would like to think that this is Ed’s way of warning Harry of his presence, but he knows that the reality is that Ed can’t help but be a nuisance to Harry after he’s done something nice for him. To keep the universe in balance, or something.

“Hello, lads!” Ed says, with a grin that’s eating more shit than a colony of flies. 

Harry sighs over-dramatically and flops down across Niall’s lap, groaning into the pillows his face lands in. He feels Niall’s arms rest on his back, fingers stroking his side and picking at the fabric of his jumper. The gesture’s loving, but not in the way Harry wishes. It’s as if nothing’s happened between them. Even after arguably the best first kiss ever, Harry has still managed to get himself punted back to square one. 

“Hi Ed,” comes Harry’s muffled voice. 

“I’ve got to go now guys, sorry. There’s a meet and greet starting in half an hour.” replies Ed.

“But you just got back!” Niall whines

“I’m not really complaining, honestly, but I don’t want to leave you guys here to get kicked out by some random.”

“So, you’re doing it yourself?” Harry says, lifting his head, which is now creased with impressions from the couch, and raising his right eyebrow.

“Basically,” says Ed, smiling that but-I-know-you-love-me-anyway  kind of smile.

Harry and Niall walk down a different hallway this time, the back exit, where Harry parked his car. They get in the car, Harry driving, of course, and sit silently in traffic. 

Harry thinks that this is actually worse than before. He can’t help but blame himself. Yeah, Niall kissed  
him back but it probably meant a lot less than Harry had made  
it out to be, and now Niall’s just creeped out. The kiss had nothing to do with Harry; everyone likes kissing! Harry’s stupid  _thing_  made him blow it out of proportion.

He’s too busy telling himself these things to notice that he’s already parked in front of Niall’s flat, having driven there so many times that it no longer needs his full attention.

“Harry? Are you planning on burning out your car?” Niall asks, snapping his fingers in front of his face.   
“Huh? Oh hey, we’re here!”   
“I’m a bit concerned that such things are being said by the driver.”

Harry scoffs, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. He strides to Niall’s side, pulling open the door and bowing deeply.

“My lady,” he says.  
“Excuse me, curls and eyelashes, but I think you’re a bit mistaken as to who’s the girl here.”  
Harry sighs, exasperatedly. “Get out of my car, Niall!” he says, his face pointing upwards, eyes closed as he tries to pull off an American accent.

Niall chuckles, stepping out faux-delicately onto the pavement and pulling his keys from his pocket. Harry finds himself following Niall into the flat. 

“So, um, I’ll go now.” Harry says, hand in his pocket while the other gestures towards the door behind him.

“Alright. Night, Harry.” Niall looks up from where he’s untying his shoes with a smile that doesn’t seem to really touch his face quite right.

Harry turns around, walking slowly, like he does everything else.He pulls the door back open, sparing Niall one last glance before he puts himself through and out into the night air. He’s just closing the door behind him when…

“Wait!” says Niall’s voice from behind him. Harry opens the door once again, backing into the house and turning around. 

“Close the door for a second? I need to… I need…” Harry shuts the door he’s still holding without looking, instead paying attention to Niall, who’s walking up to him, still apparently trying to figure out what he needs.

Nialls hands are now on the collar of his hoodie, rubbing the fabric and  _whoa_  does Niall know teleportation or something because how did he get this close?

“Not today, not this time,” Niall says as he pulls Harry down for a kiss, “you’re staying.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first-ever prompt fill:) Last night, instead of getting rest before the first day of finals, I went on the narry tag then started to fill a prompt by king-niallhoran. I hope this is what you were looking for, babe:) Sorry for diverging a bit. thanks for reading, everyone


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